Bones
by AnglophilicSins
Summary: "Hello,"/A voice both crass and unpleasant, hoarse from overuse and exertion/It is music to my rotten ears, a ghost of a song like cymbals like a gong/I slump against a warm chest, feel the sternum rise and fall with each breath/"It's okay. You'll heal." AU; WW1; Germancest; Written in confusing not-verse/fail!poetry and mostly from Ludwig's POV


Bones

The human body is built; first organs, bones over, muscles, fats, flesh, skin

He has always been pale; it's how he was built; special, unique, beautiful

I am afraid to touch him; he blanches paler than the bones just beneath skin

How?

He will break if I touch him, I am sure

Shatter his brittle bones, snap that protruding spine

I dare not brush his cheek; it will collapse, that sunken cheekbone

They are not breaths; the harrowing rasps that burrow in my marrow

He wasn't always like this

He shouldn't be like this

Bones

I don't remember very much from way back then

Cold rain, cobblestone, alleyways, rats that scurry over my legs

Red eyes, flaring like a flame in a hearth

A pale hand like bones both scrawny and large

I grasp it

It is strong

"Hello,"

A voice both crass and unpleasant, hoarse from overuse and exertion

It is music to my rotten ears, a ghost of a song like cymbals like a gong

I slump against a warm chest, feel the sternum rise and fall with each breath

"It's okay. You'll heal."

Bones

Father, mother, brother, friend

Words. Just words that I didn't think meant anything

Now they do. They are warm, they are large, they fill my chest and my lungs and I swear even my fingers are swelling I am so full I could burst but I mustn't and I won't

It would upset him

"Don't steal." I pay

"Don't lie." I blab

"Don't give up." I stand again

I never do otherwise

It would upset him

His smile and his pride fills my heart and my ribs are too small and my legs are too short I need to reach the sun and soar away I am so light and free but I mustn't and I won't

It would upset him

Love. Father, mother, brother, friend

Bones

She is lovely and spirited; I see her dancing with him

I clap and I cheer; their dance ends and she dances with me

He claps and he cheers

The months pass in a haze of bliss

I feel warmth and strength and I think I am happy now

With a house and a fence and a dog and two children

'Soon,' I think, 'soon.'

It never happens

His knuckles rap on my door and suddenly he is too happy why is he so happy

_But is there such a thing as too happy?_

He tries a smile and offers the beers

"Hello,"

It is as harsh as it always was and I want to punch his throat till the cartilage breaks but I don't

"It's okay. You'll heal."

Bones

Sometimes I wonder if I am just stupid or if he is wise; I figure it is the former

"It is not our fight!"

"What would you do if someone hit me?"

"I'd hit them too"

"Why?"

His eyes like flames, they sear into me and suddenly the sun is too strong and his colourless hair is too bright

They dare, they taunt; that high noble brow lowers in a furious challenge

"It's not your fight."

Bones

A man looks around the square. He sees happy couples, shop keepers going about their day, friends saying hello

A young pure Aryan man and his abomination of a 'friend'

He tucks the canvases closer to himself, the knuckles going a shade almost as disgraceful as that being's hair

"This country has gone to the dogs."

Bones

It's mandatory and gruelling and painful and meaningless

"Never give up." I stand again

Beaten down in the next second

We're sweaty and grimy and it's too hot with the weapons on our backs and a helmet on our brows

We're not even eighteen yet

"Never give up." The harsh caw of his voice is faint and it's far

But I hear it still and I push myself up and forge on

He's done and waiting; standing straight-backed and tall and noble like a prince

I am crumpled at his feet, all my bones ache and my strength is gone

"Ow," It's a whine, but my silken baritone turns it proud

"Hello," He grins, with a powerful hand he reaches out, sounding like a street rat with one too many diseases

He is strong. I am pulled up with a wince and for once notice I am taller. But he is strong.

Maybe I just never realised how strong

"It's okay. You'll heal."

Bones

He is disciplined and he is smart and a natural-born leader

When I am still a peon he is already a commander

"Hey," His voice is quiet, scratchy like sandpaper

His skull sits nicely on my collarbone and his hands rests just so in mine

Before I know it my lips are on his and his hands are on me

Suddenly I feel every ripple of coiled muscle and relish every harsh gasp

It is simple and it feels so right and both of us wonder why it took us so long

He is gone in the morning

I get myself ready and I stand at attention in line

"Sir! We've lost communication with Unit 5, sir!"

A harried little man, he shakes like a leaf

The captain raises an eyebrow and bids him speak

"They've shot fifteen men and taken hostage three

That was the last of Cl. Beilschmidt that I did see."

Bones

The wait is horrid as men scrabble for plans

I hate myself. I worked hard but I was never smart

Never smart enough, never as smart as him

I am twitchy and I am flighty and I flare at peer and superior

My teeth worry through my lips and there's a taste of copper but I barely care

A platoon member sighs and drags me away

"Hello," she's pretty enough and noble enough to volunteer as a medic

Her voice flows smooth like a river and her eyes are a pretty calm green

It's a horrible, garish sound and I feel like screaming no no no NO!

"It's okay. You'll heal."

But it's all wrong

Bones

The march takes a week, that much he knows

The planning could take a month, he knows it's uncertain

He keeps his eyes trained on the ones before him

All he has to do is hold out, hold out and live

Fifteen men murdered and two more by their own hands

He would take his secrets to the grave

They've beaten him and drowned him

They've starved him and they've raped him

They've maimed him and they've disfigured him

But they will never ever break him

His bones are shattered and his right eye's a mess of gore

He has hundreds of infected wounds that he's sure are festering

He has a fever that climbs with each passing hour

But his soul and his spirit is intact still

And they will never ever break him

Bones

It takes forty days and every second is torture

He counts them as they pass but the count is forgotten

Fifteen corpses they'd found scattered in the field

Two more they'd found naked, hidden in a box

The last one they found chained in a cell

He is one of the first to rush in; he rips out the shackles with strength he never knew he possessed

The medic confirms consciousness and breath, however irregular

Harsh

A rattle

Grating

It's music to his ears

The ghost of a song, like cymbals like a gong

The skull rolls on his arm, a single dull flame awakens and questions

"Hello," he tries, through the sobs through the relief

"It's okay. You'll heal."

Bones

Now I wait again

Just sitting

Praying

Listening

Watching

He hasn't stirred

Just raspy breaths in out in out

I want to hold his hand

But I will break him

I'm sure of it

Why?

He is just skin

Nothing more than skin

Pulled tightly around brittle bones

Paler than paper

Paler than death

Paler than bones

Listening to raspy breaths in out in out

Bones

I've been honourably discharged; the captain is an understanding man

I change into a simple shirt and slacks for the first time in ever

I stop by a flower stand and get myself a drink on the way

I drop both in shock when I open the door

"Why are you so surprised?"

His voice is hoarse from disuse and his eyelid is leaden

"Wonder how long I've been out."

I barely believe my ears and my eyes; I reach out to touch him

But then what? If it was a lie? It would fade and fall apart and I would listen to raspy breaths in out in-

If it were real? He would break, he would shatter and he would crumble there would be nothing to wait for-

"Hello," his voice is sharp and it cuts, laced with annoyance and bemusement

"I won't go down that easily."

His arms are stick thin yet they rise with fluidity and grace

His cheeks have hollowed to nothingness yet the dimples appear easily with his smile

I stand taller, fuller, healthier, prouder. But he is strong

"There's strength in these bones yet."

Maybe I just never realised how strong

I'm sobbing horribly, crushing him in my arms

He doesn't break, he doesn't crumble away

He laughs clearly and freely and he's thumping my back so heartily it actually hurts

But it's okay

It's okay now

"It's okay. I'll heal."

Bones

* * *

Whoo. Okay. So I realise this is really weird-ass formatting and some of you guys out there are most definitely twitching to add periods to every line I haven't punctuated. I kinda am, myself.

Is there a reason for my wanting to use such fucked-up formatting? Do I have something against periods? Nope and nope.

I DO WHAT I WANT WAHAHA!

In any case, I hope you've enjoyed and/or managed to make a modicum of sense of this.

And um... Leave a review? .w.


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